


Some things never change

by jjjat3am



Category: Almost Human, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, tiny hint of McKirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:40:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/jjjat3am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After John's death, Dorian watches over his descendants. He's perfectly content watching from afar, until a certain Leonard McCoy comes along and Dorian just can't stay away.</p><p>So he changes his name to M'Benga and enlists to Starfleet Academy.</p><p>Inspired by <a href="http://enterpriseofficial.tumblr.com/post/68852963137/petition-for-michael-ealy-to-be-cast-as-mbenga-in">this</a> post, which got me thinking of Dorian as M'Benga in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some things never change

Time passes.

 

It brings a hint of grey to John’s hair, deepens the crinkles around his eyes and a multitude of creaks and crackles to his movements. Dorian follows him and never changes.

 

When John retires from police work, Dorian follows, despite John’s protests. Rudy reprograms him with medical training and he settles down with John at a small cabin in Georgia, nearby John’s sister Mary and her family.

 

Those are happy days, even if John complains about his prosthetic and his joints almost constantly, and is in general, the grumpy old man he’s always been. They still argue over stupid things, grinning at each other all the while. And in the evenings Dorian works overtime to show John that he still appreciates his body, even when its youth has long since passed.

 

To Mary’s kids they’re Uncle John and Uncle Dorian and in the summers their laughter fills up the small cabin and the clearing it stands in. John cooks them dinner, while Dorian reads them stories and amazes them by doing all the voices. Sometimes when he does, he catches John watching him with a wistful expression on his face. It reminds him of the conversation they had once, when their relationship was just starting.

 

“Okay, I take it back; you’re surprisingly good with kids.”

 

“I told you. It’s the whiny brats I can’t stand.”

 

“So…wouldn’t you want to have some of your own? That secretary from Narcotics was eyeing you in the elevator today.” Dorian had said it lightly, trying to mask the very real uncertainty brewing inside him since they kissed for the first time.

 

John saw right through him, he’d always been able to, and pushed him into an empty alleyway, kissing him so thoroughly, that by the end Dorian was feeling a bit lightheaded even if he didn’t actually need oxygen.

 

“We’ll get a cat.” John muttered against his cheek.

 

“You’re allergic to cats.”

 

“I made that up to get you off my back about getting a pet.” Dorian laughed so hard at that that his tear ducts activated (that’s the story he’s sticking to).

 

They do, in fact, get a cat. They name him Paw, because his back leg is white while the rest of him is tabby. Ironically, he finds a special joy in sleeping on John’s prosthetic.

 

They spend their evenings curled up together in front of the TV, Dorian’s core temperature elevated to warm John’s aching joints and Paw purring away on John’s prosthetic. John grumbles, of course, but Dorian can read the happiness in the way his eye wrinkles become more pronounced. After all these years, Dorian is fairly sure that he can read all of John’s expressions.

 

In fact, they’d probably manage to communicate without speaking at all, if they didn’t enjoy arguing so much.

 

Sitting by his bedside on that last day in June, Dorian realized that he was wrong, that there was one expression his data was unfamiliar with, and that was the one John was wearing right now.

 

They’d been to the doctor a few months ago, when Dorian’s readings of John’s vitals had shown something unexpected. _‘Cancer’_ they said _‘terminal’_ Dorian's data said.  If a heart were included in his internal make-up, Dorian’s would have broken.

 

John grew progressively weaker, until he was confined to the bed in their bedroom and complaining about the food Dorian made him. He stayed lucid until the end, even when his body was failing him.

 

“Dorian…do you remember our second case together. Vanessa?” He’d whispered to him, where they were curled together on the bed, the tubes and wires preventing Dorian from pulling him closer. “I’ve been thinking a lot about her.”

 

“John…” was as far as he went. His sensors were already telling him that John’s vitals were fading.

 

“Will you remember me, Dorian? When I go to a better place, will you remember me?”

 

“Always.” He had whispered into John’s snow-touched hair. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” And the first time Dorian heard those words would also be the last.

 

John was gone.

 

 

*

 

 

An android does not die and he does not age. Dorian refused to be decommissioned or to have his programs overwritten, and with the help of some of his old contacts, he was left to his own devices.

 

He watched over Mary’s children, his only blood link to John. He babysitted, he helped them learn and watched them grow up. It was worth it when he sometimes glimpsed John in the stubborn set of their jaw or an angry furrow of their eyebrows. As time passed, he watched them from a far, unable to cope when they died from old age or accident.

 

So it was a shock, some hundred years later, to see the face of a young Leonard McCoy on a school picture. He looked exactly like John, down to the darkness of his eyes.

 

Dorian packed his bags and moved back to Georgia.

 

He watched the young man blaze his way through medical school and his slow descent into alcohol after his father’s death and his failed marriage. It was not until Dr. Leonard McCoy boarded the shuttle of Starfleet enlistees that he intervened.

 

A few phone calls later and Dorian became Dr. Jabilo M’Benga. He had the medical training, so why not? The Starfleet Academy didn’t usually accept androids as students, but Dorian came highly recommended.

 

The different species of aliens had always fascinated him, so it felt logical he specialize in Foreign species medicine. It also minimized the time he spent in class with Leonard McCoy, because while he watched him from afar quite often, he could never bring himself to speak to him.

 

It was pure luck that he got assigned to the Enterprise staff for its five year mission to explore space. It also meant working closely with the resident CMO.

 

It was hard, watching John’s face speak words that John never would, in an accent that John used to mock sometimes, to make Dorian laugh. Despite their startlingly similar appearance, they didn’t seem to have much in common at all. John believed that killing was a necessary evil and together they’d stopped many a criminal forever, while Leonard saw every life as valuable and tried to heal even their worst enemies.

 

Though, seeing him cursing out their captain or before his morning coffee made Dorian smile, because there was his John, shining through, grumpy as ever.

 

The loss hit him so harshly sometimes that he had to look away from the shadows dancing over familiar features. The eyes were all wrong though. John’s eyes always looked at Dorian differently.

 

But somehow, he couldn’t seem to stay away from the other man and if the way he seemed to be invited to drinking nights was to be understood, Leonard seemed to feel the same way.

 

The doctor would grow more open as the night progressed (just like John). Also more morose and confusing (just like John). After the fifth night he’d helped the concerned captain haul him to his quarters, he told the captain he hoped they’d figure it out and left him standing confused in the corridor.

 

Dorian knew, beyond any man, that humans didn’t last forever.

 

Life on the Enterprise was hard, with a new threat to their life every week, but at least it wasn’t boring. Dorian kept an eye out for Leonard, because the good doctor had a way of getting into trouble, which guaranteed maiming by an alien species before his fortieth birthday. Good thing Dorian still had his artificial strength and that he knew how to be discreet. Most foes were dropped long before they reached the CMO’s private office.

 

Still, there came a day when it just wasn’t enough.

 

The ship was in the midst of another alien threat, when the attacker burst through the doors of the Medical bay, descending upon the startled CMO attending the patients. Dorian was there in a second.

 

He eventually defeated the alien, twisting his neck until it broke clean off, but the consequences were severe. His leg was broken in key places and the acidic substance the alien secreted had eroded through his chest plate. Dorian could feel his data cutting off and terminating.

 

“M’Benga! Tell me how to fix you!” Leonard was by his side, and his expression of concern and his doctor efficiency made Dorian smile.

 

“You can’t.” Dorian did his own repairs. The last person familiar enough with the DRN unit to fix them died with Rudy Lom’s daughter. “My name is Dorian.”

 

“Okay, okay, Dorian. There must me something we can do, man!” Leonard was frantic now, none of the devices would work on an android body and none of the academy lessons prepared him for this. One of his closest friends on this ship was dying and he couldn’t fix it.

 

“Stay with me.” whispered Dorian, uncomfortably aware of his voice box failing him. He smiled at the other man, knowing how hard he took to losing someone under his care.

 

“Alright.” Leonard took his hand and Dorian stole a moment to look at him openly, the way he hadn’t allowed himself before.

 

“You’re a good man, Leonard McCoy. So much like him it hurts. But maybe you’re a little bit like me as well…” his data was slowly unraveling, pieces of his personality fading away.

 

“You could have been our son.”

 

Right as his system shut down, Dorian’s servers sent off a string of code streaming through the ship’s system on many different frequencies.

 

01001010 01101111 01101000 01101110

 

Lieutenant Uhura would later report:

 

“It just said: _John_.”

 

 

*

 

 

Somewhere else, Dorian slowly opened his eyes.

 

 

“Get up, my friend. Let’s get some noodles. My treat.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](http://www.example.com/), come say hi!
> 
> I doubt I do the idea justice, but here's my take. I hope you enjoy it!


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